Earlier this week I was away and carefully arranged childcare and playdates while Jamie worked during the day. During the day on Tuesday, I received a text that my friend was currently cleaning the floors, on her hands and knees, because that’s how English women do it. Mortified, I cringed a little. The floors were a disaster when I left on Sunday morning – by Tuesday? I can’t even imagine.
Also? I love her. She just told me that my floors weren’t dirty, they were crafty.
I can’t recall any one time where I’ve ever cleaned the floor on my hands and knees. She set the bar high – because I received a text from Jamie that the house was so clean, and I need to step it up. Friday night, he jokingly mentioned it again, walking into a combination of crafts, recipes being made and a living area that was scattered with every single book from the book shelf.
Being a good parent (or present with the kids), working and cleaning the house – those are the three things I’ve got going on. At any one time, two of those three things are attainable, but the third? Not happening. I craft with the kids. I bake the bread that we eat. I make 90% of things from scratch. I spend time with the kids. I work from home. Cleaning the house? That’s what has given.
The floors? They’re always going to be a little sticky. There’s always going to be the one shower that needs to be cleaned. There’s probably always going to be dirty dishes in the dishwasher and if you look under the couch, there’s always going to be random toys, and probably something disgusting like an apple core that I’ve missed on my quick tidy up through the day.
I’ve learned that there is always something that has to give. There’s always something that’s going to be at the top of your list, and that’s going to be more important. I’m great at tidying – the house is usually very tidy, but when it comes down to the nitty gritty in the corners, make all the things sparkle, it’s a big fat fail.
My cleaning stash consists of a few Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and of bottle of dish soap.
If only there were more than one of me. We joke constantly that combining the skills of friends (you know, like the on her hands and knees floor washer) and the bread baking, crafting, food-cooking me would make for the perfect stereotypical housewife.
and for a split second I think, maybe the sister wives are on to something.